Free Points West (A Butterscotch Jones Mystery Book 5) by Melanie Jackson

feet, forcing him to dance in place to avoid further injury.
    This was a man with a lot on his mind and Desoto was feeling
very curious. He was also vengeful enough to be glad to get back at the pilot
that had terrorized him last flight out.
    “ Dagnabit !” the Wings proclaimed.
“Don’t sneak up on a man like that.”
    “I’m sorry,” the agent replied, “but it’s the least
intrusive way I could think of for getting your attention.”
    “Sometimes people’s attentions should be left well enough
alone, don’t you think?” the pilot retorted, his expression showing that he was
still in pain.
    “In any case, I’m here to catch a ride with you to
McIntyre’s Gulch,” the agent explained. “That is if your craft is airworthy.”
    “Oh, she’s more than airworthy,” the Wings said defensively,
stepping back to the plane and slapping his hand down on the nose of the engine
compartment.
    In response to the slap, the engine disgorged a rather
important-looking piece of its guts onto the tarmac. The Wings looked down at
the rusty and dented part as it decanted oil onto the asphalt.
    “Oh, that part isn’t necessary,” he explained in embarrassment
as he bent to pick up the arrant engine component. “I can wait until we get to
the Gulch to reattach that.”
    “Yes, I’m sure you can,” the agent responded skeptically.
    “Anyway, throw your bag in the back and climb onboard. I think
we’re ready to get underway,” the Wings told him.
    The agent did as instructed and waited patiently in the
front passenger seat for the pilot to join him in the cockpit. The Wings
climbed in and started up the engines to give them a chance to warm up. As
always, he skipped the preflight checklist so he could get right to the good
stuff. Satisfied with the sound of the engines and the readings on the gauges
that worked, he slipped his radio headset on to obtain clearance from the tower
to take off.
    “Danny, you once more failed to file a flight plan,” the
tower announced over the cabin speakers.
    “Roger that, Barney. Just use the last one I filed; after all, the flight’s always the same.”
    “Alright, but one of these years you’re going to have to
file a new one.”
    “Roger,” the Wings said before smiling at Desoto. “Flight
plan,” he laughed.
    “Mr. McIntyre,” Desoto said solemnly. “I feel as if I should
let you know that your shenanigans won’t work with me.”
    “What shenanigans would that be?”
    “Any attempt to upset me by pretending that your craft is
not working, that turbulence is causing the wild fluctuations in elevation, or
that the plane is about to crash during our trip. I warn you now that I have an
iron constitution and don’t spook easily.”
    “Is that a fact?” the Wings replied.
    Of course, this was the worst possible thing that Agent
Desoto could have said to the likes of Danny “the Wings” McIntyre who viewed
the simple statement as a personal affront and a challenge.

 
    *   *   *

 
    “The Wings is on landing approach and he’s got your
detective friend with him,” Big John announced as I was waiting at his bar with
a hot cup of coffee in my gloved hands. Temperatures had dropped again and even
the short walk to the pub had chilled me.
    “Is he landing on the lake?” I asked.
    “Don’t think so.”
    Anxious to see the FBI agent, I hopped off my stool and led
Max out onto the porch to watch the landing in person. Within minutes I spotted
the Wings’ plane. It looked like it was descending too fast and likely to
crash. I watched as it pulled up at the last second, its wings wiggled before
becoming level, and the wheels bounced down hard on the street. The landing
concluded with Danny doing donuts at the town limits.
    As usual, Danny bounded from his plane, seemingly happy to
have survived another landing. His passenger fell from the other side, elevated
himself onto his hands and knees, and began vomiting into the snow.
    “Danny, what have you done this